The Black Wizard
by Amelia Lynette Conner
Summary: Most associate Darkness with a cold brand of evil that must be avoided at all costs. The Fellowship meets a man by the name of Hadrian Black who makes them question this deeply ingraned instinct, his selfless behaviour a surprise to many. His power is great, but will they discover what makes his soul so dark? /Rating may change /Ships undecided
1. Prologue

It is a 199 year old Harry, on his 200th Summer, that Harry James Potter-Black is forcefully ejected from this world. That's not to say he was killed, or banished, no, but he had no choice in leaving so late and so suddenly. Not that he would have argued, no, not when he is an old weary man who still has demands made of him. Still made demands of the most powerful wizard in Britain, even if he is old and blind and tired and nearing his end, pushing his loved ones aside after death to push more on him. No, Harry would not have argued it in the slightest.

What he would argue against is how and why they had done it.

As the boy who lived lay in his bed, on the hottest day of the short year, he cried silvery tears, his magic copying and bleeding out Remembrance. Dancing memories of his youngest child's life glittered in his tears, little Albus, who had died one year prior. A long life to be sure, but Harry was tired of putting his children to rest while he stayed behind.

Slowly, Harry could feel himself fading. The world wanted him for one more year, and he knew he'd live through it for them, always adhering to their wishes, but no more. Once his 200th birthday passed, so would he.

However, it is as he sleeps, not an hour after those thoughts cross his mind, that he is visited by someone he hadn't seen since the battle of Hogwarts. It comes to him with nary a sound, drifting through the walls of his large, empty home, a cold chill following in its wake. If Harry had been conscious to see it, he may have drawn the power for a Patronus.

The figure stopped at his bedside, a decaying, skeletal hand hovering over his chest, but instead of perhaps his soul, or very life leaving the elder, out of his chest came a dusty, dirt stained old hourglass of brass, the few grains of sand remaining dropping one by one at a sluggish pace. The creature then turned the object on its head, watching intently as it rushed back into the top at an absurd speed.

In but an instant, Harry's hourglass had been refilled, and with surprisingly hesitant hands, hard bones grasped the hourglass, pulling it towards itself. The Wizard's steadily raising and falling chest stilled.

Swiftly, the brass was cleaned, rust removed, surface polished, and only once it was pristine once more did bones remove the bottom of the glass. Sand poured out of this creature's sleeve, quickly adjusted to pour into the empty space in the hourglass. Thus, with both ends full, it replaced the glass and brass, and watched as the Wizard's breaths resumed at a far less laborious pace.

Slowly, the wrinkles on Harry's face began to recede, youth coming back to his squared jaw, especially as the inky blackness returned to his greyed hair. It stopped, however, before he could be called 'young'. This creature did not want its chosen to be discredited simply due to the shallowness of men. Though it supposed it didn't matter in the end; the boy would show them all, however he appeared.

A chilling laugh, deep and slow filled the air, and Death put its hands on the boy's shoulders, marking the skin underneath black as though coated in ink. It hoisted the man into a seated position, letting him bow forward to gravity, and wrote a single line of Latin between his shoulder blades. Just as it seemed Death was finished, a light shone in the doorway, and it seemed to heave a heavy sigh before disappearing in a whisp of black sand.

From the doorway appeared a golden figure who eyed the position Harry Potter was left in oddly, long hair spilling over its shoulder as its head tilted to the side. The figure was uncovered and practically glowing, but even with its face in view and its naked body out in the open, it was impossible to give it a gender. Indeed, this entity, despite the feminine face, yet flat chest, lacked genitalia to distinguish it, and it was far from human enough to care for categories.

The figure glided forward much like death had, carding a gentle hand through Harry's short hair. A glow as golden and cold as its own enveloped the boy, and it frowned, waiting with its hand on the back of his neck. Waiting, waiting, until the gold turned to an odd, warm black, which prompted a wide smile.

'/Harry James Potter-Black/' the figure's lips didn't move, but a melodic, androgynous voice filled the air around the two, golden eyes shining brightly. '/Boy who lived. Man who conquered. Hero of Britain. The Most Powerful Wizard in England/' That gentle hand carded through Harry's hair again, the occasional hair shimmering in that bright golden color briefly. One lock twisted around the being's slim fingers, twisting together into a golden braid, glowing in contrast to the Wizard's black warmth. '/Hadrian the Black/'

The long ears on the creature perked upwards, hearing something no one else could, and its face turned sad. '/farewell my darling child/' with the familiar popping of Apparition, Harry was alone again, slouched forward on his bed, appearing years younger, and feeling even more spry.

He'd have a sore back when he awoke in Bree, but that would be the least of his worries.

**_Hello o/ _**

**_I'm well aware that I have a million other things to be writing now, and like many of them this probably won't go anywhere, but I wrote it so I'm posting it!_**

**_I'm actually writing a bit of my own thing right now, so I'm mostly writing this to get it out of my system. If you see anything called Dragonkin on Tumblr, that would be mine :3 though I have like no followers, SO YEAH_**

**_Anyways yes. Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings. I'll probably cave to temptation and make it Harry/Legolas (if I get that far), but you never know uvu._**

**_Also I'm posting from my phone so I hope it doesn't get messed up!_**


	2. Blind and Clueless

**_Keeping the chapters shortish so I can hopefully update when I actually feel the muse in me._**

**_Any reviews I feel need answering will be answered at the bottom of the page; thank you everyone who does so! It was really amazing to see the warm welcome into this genre!_**

It is to an unearthly screeching and the cold draining plummet of Dementors that Harry jolted to attention. Acting on an instinct he hadn't felt since retirement, he pulled a wand from his sleeve and dredged up his happiest memory, Lily's birth, and summoned his Patronus. What should have been glowing white stag bound off into the town nearby, and with a gallop of hooves and another screech, Harry let himself relax, raising a hand to rub his eyes.

Though he still could not see, Harry didn't need to in order to feel something was wrong. For one, he hadn't left his bed in a couple of days, let alone left the house, and yet he could feel the grassy earth through his trousers, and the early morning breeze against his cheek. His body also felt... Different. His hand was softer, and his face, when prodded with curious fingers, didn't feel nearly as aged as when he fell asleep. He felt better than he had in over 100 years.

As well as this, he felt the rounded bulbs on the wand in his hand, dreading what he would see there if he could. The Holly wand had long since required a replacement, but even then, he'd never used the Death stick. With a bit of pressure from his hand, Harry unhesitatingly repeated his actions after the battle of Hogwarts, snapping the damned thing in two. Even if it meant having no wand at all, he didn't want the thing near him.

Standing with a long forgotten ease, Harry patted himself down, glad to find himself dressed in some slacks with a little satchel hanging from a belt, a shirt, and robes. He just hoped whatever put him here didn't dress him like Dumbledore. On his hand he was relieved to find the Pmotter and Black rings still in place, so he was still in his _own_ body, seeing as there had never been one person heading both families before, so no one else could wear both. However, he found another grimace on his face as he found a third ring on his opposite hand, quickly slipping off what he knew was the resurrection stone.

Dropping it next to the pieces of the wand, Harry contemplated his cloak. He had no doubt it was the invisibility cloak at this point, but as tempted as he was to leave it behind as well, it was the only one he considered as actually belonging to him. So, hoping it was invisibility side in and not making half of him disappear, the Wizard moved towards the entrance of what sounded like a quiet village.

Thankfully, while living blind for 30 some years was a pain when he wanted to go anywhere outside of his home, it had allowed him to learn how to _see_ with magic. Sort of. He just described it as such so people would leave him alone and stop telling him to get a keazle to help him get around. He didn't need a seeing-eye cat thank you very much.

No, technically, Harry was blinder than a bat if he didn't send pulses of magic through the ground when he stepped. While it didn't give him any sight, the area around him became.., known to his body and magic, and he would take the next step accordingly reflexively. Like walking down the stairs, he would know where the last step is, so he wouldn't have that off kilter jarring feeling on the step coming too soon.

Or when he came to a wall before the city. Coming to a stop, roving his gaze over the area in an old habit he didn't think he'd ever get rid of, Harry reached forward and knocked on the door.

He almost flinched at the loud snapping noise of a small wood sliding door opening, and someone snapped something at him in an aggravated tone and snapped the door shut. Snappishly.

Harry shook his head. He wouldn't be getting in there without a wand it seemed. After all, how would he get in if he couldn't even understand the man guarding the entrance? Wherever he was, they certainly didn't speak English. Or French... Or German.

They probably take a password too. He'd best find somewhere else. For a moment, Harry thought about Apparating, but without knowing where he was, that was a dangerous move. He could Apparate across England, but if he were in, say, Asia or any other continent than Europe, he'd be so drained of magic it could take weeks to cast '_Lumos_' if he were in South America the jump would kill him, probably. Powerful wizard he may be, but even he had his limits. If all else failed, he would try. Not much for him to lose at this point, though the great grandkids would be a little saddened.

One more year, he told himself.

Trying to figure out where to go now, the man focused inside of himself, eyes closing out of habit. Instead of letting his magic loose like when he casted wandlessly, he reigned it in, pulling it back into himself. Then he felt for it. Felt for the magic in this place. No matter where he went, there always had to be at least one magical community around, and this sensory check didn't disappoint. 5 directions to choose from, and while he couldn't feel how far they were, if he could feel them, it was close enough.

Leaving this little village behind, Harry picked a direction and started walking. Thankfully he didn't sleep much anymore, and his night of rest previously was good fortune for him, though a nearly empty stomach was not. While mind magic, wards, and most charms were out of his league wandless, transfiguration and conjuring, while draining, he could do. Sadly you could not transfigure safe food, and he might not be quite capable of conjuring anything edible besides water. Harry was very much regretting not becoming an animagus; hunting would be so much easier as a predator. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

However, as luck would have it, things weren't quite so easy for him. '_Figures_' he thought to himself as the second day of nonstop walking passed.

He needed to eat. His abundant magic could sustain him for a long time, but that didn't make it pleasant when it lasted so long that became necessary. It would sap his energy, and his form of sight would be shortened and eventually stolen. No, he needed to catch something to eat. Without a water source nearby, he couldn't go for fish, and as tempted as he was to try it, something told him a wandless Accio would be disastrous.

He'd probably try to take a short sleep once he'd eaten too; no point in pushing himself too hard. You never know where dark creatures could be lurking about, and it wouldn't do him any good to be tired and hungry if he was attacked, creature or not. He was well aware after so many years as head Auror, that a human could hurt you just as bad as any other if they wanted to.

Wrapping himself in his invisibility cloak, Harry transfigured a stone larger than his own head into a steaming hot apple strudel, and if it smelled a little too muddy, well it wasn't like he was going to eat it. This was a gruesome way to hunt, for sure, but Harry was more than desensitized to it.

It was well over an hour that passed, though to the wizened old man, it felt like a handful of minutes before a deer came into the clearing. Harry fought back a grimace at the living embodiment of his professor's love for his mother, but nature was nature. He could never afford to be picky. At least her death would be swift, and she was a skinny thing, so it would only be her to die.

Once the small strudel was devoured by the hungry creature, Harry was infinitely glad he could only get an impression of her vague shape when his magic was at work, and he cut off his flow of it, truly blinding himself. And also cancelling the transfiguration.

_-skipping the unnecessary gore-_

Once he had guiltily eaten his fill and giving what he didn't use of the animal a proper grave, Harry walked until the sun set for the night before laying near a rocky edge he'd climbed over. With a bit of fancy magic, he gave himself blankets that would last through the night, and lay the cloak overtop his assemble.

As he prepared for slumber, Harry couldn't help but wonder if anyone realized he was missing yet. Did one if his descendants checked in on him, or perhaps the ministry floo him? Or maybe the Hogwarts professors asking him to take up the mantle of Headmaster again?

In all honesty, he doubted it. The only one who would likely miss him was Death and Fate. He was sure the first was eager to claim him while the second couldn't wait to throw something at him again. What a last year of life this was turning out to be.

He hoped things would go smoothly for once, but a cold chill convinced him otherwise. He slept with a furrow to his brow, curled up under the liquid fabric of Death's Cloak, and dreamed about what terrible things could happen.

He didn't sleep long however, as he was forced out of his slumber by an unearthly screechy, a deja vu feeling coming over him as he pulled a wand from his sleeve.

_**Solaryss**_: **_thank you for not trying to convince me of any other ship 3 I have noticed a pattern of Sub Harry everywhere, and no matter the ship, I won't be doing that to our temperamental saviour and wizard._**

**_However, it may disappoint you to know that I'm not a fan of writing Dom/Sub pairs. It's a common theme, but Harry and Legolas would be shown as Equals, even if one is older or one is more powerful. That is, both would be a Dom at some point, it just depends on how they're feeling that day. I see both being very strong in presence._**

**_Raven Marcus: I'm going to be blunt. _**

**_No._**

**_C'mon man, if you're going to try and tell me to write something other than my gay otp at least say something other than "Hetero plz". Give me a character, a reason, a way for it to work! Gotta convince me man! Or woman. Don't know many women named Raven tho._**

**_On a side note that has nothing to do with reviews, I'm writing this without any references and on my phone, so any pointers to my mistakes would be much appreciated!_**

**_I need to edit that first sentence in the first chapter oops._**

**_Also this is all just for fun, so it's no big deal to me if I mess up things like how long it takes to get places and how canon divergence affects everything. There will be some, just saying._**


	3. Striding Forward

**_Why are people so keen on Heterosexualships? Like, does it really matter if my _****Fanfiction****_ has two dudes kissing? If I have to write anyone kissing it's gonna be gay as heck. Maybe I should just genderbend them both and throw lesbians at you all :D_**

Like the War Hero he was, Harry rolled to his feet, quickly slipping his cloak on while banishing his bedding. The wand in his hand practically vibrated with his magic, his hand tight around the odd textures of the Elder Wand. He didn't let himself think about how it had gotten into his grasp again, sprinting over the beaten ground to whee he could feel the coldness. Someone was being hunted by Dementors, and Harry was a "Save first ask questions later" kind of guy.

As soon as he was close enough that his Patronus would reach, Harry yelled out the incantation. "Expecto Patronum!" What felt like a blacklight shone in his vision briefly, giving him pause. That was the first thing he'd seen proper in a very long time. Prongs hadn't been visible at all last time it had been summoned. He'd have to figure it out later though, as someone probably still needed his help.

When he reached the stone ruins, seeing the black light of Prongs, and feeling the impression of four small figures - children? - and 5 Dementors on the ground, none in the sky as far as his magic could tell him. Prongs, oddly, was only able to fight off two, the pair of them taking his constant attention and they hissed and screeched at the pure happy thoughts on the light stag.

The other three, however, were closing in on one of the children. As it was too dangerous blind, Harry didn't think Fiendfyre was the best plan. He'd have to get creative.

"Ascendare!" Casting the spell Lockhart had botched in Second year, the wizard pointed his wand at the child, waited for him to ascend to a safe height, and then, "Aresto Momentum!" Slowed his descent to a snails pace. That would have Harry a handful of seconds to create some distance.

"Confrigo!" As one was blasted back by the flames of his spell, the other two turned to him and he grinned in success, skipping backwards as having them follow him away from the child. The magical fire of Confrigo didn't last very long, and soon there were three before him. He was about to call Prongs to him, but the sound of a blade descending forced him to hold, dodging to the side as a war cry sounded a little ways away. Why did the Dementor wield a blade?

A dull light in sight and the figure of a man charging in, waving the light, likely fire, at the Dementors. Not Muggles then. But no magic? Perhaps this man was only secretly a wizard and the kids were Muggles?

Harry shook his head, joining the man from afar with Diffindos and Reductos, Confrigo and Protego. The fight didn't last long. Set aflame by the fires of the man's torch and Harry's magic, the five quickly fled.

There is a silent pause, relief filling Harry as he threw the Elder Wand aside, sliding the thrice DAMNED ring from his hand as it appeared again at some point. He felt Prongs disappear with the dropped wand, the happy thought dissipating into the air.

Hearing the shallow, terrified gasps of the children, together in groups of two, one moving towards the other, Harry really wished he had some chocolate. For the Children, the Wizard, and himself. They could all use it after such a close shave with the soul suckers.

As if hearing him, Harry could feel the pouch on his belt warm, and surprised, he stuck his hand in it, finding nothing. Remembering Hermione's bag, which he usually kept with him on missions before retirement, sitting on his bedside since, Harry wandlessly cast Accio inside the bag, smiling at his reward.

Breaking off a piece, and temporarily forgetting that English probably wasn't the common tongue here, Harry tossed it to the adult. "Here; It'll take the edge off of the depressing influence."

The man caught it easily, and he spoke in that language that sounded so much like it wanted to be English. Turning his blind gaze in his general direction, Harry gave an apologetic smile, more like a grimace, and shrugged. "Sorry, mate. Guess we're out of luck with language here." Of course, if he picked up the Elder Wand he could just use a translation Charm, but he'd rather not touch the thing outside of perilous situations.

Leaving the man behind, Harry made a move for the kids, smiling as he went, but the man called out, sounding wary and cautious, making him pause. Did the man think him an enemy despite what just happened? While he could understand not letting a stranger give your kids candy, he seriously doubted anyone would think him likely to poison someone after saving them.

This man would do Mad Eye proud, Harry thought wryly.

The man spoke again, and Harry was distinctly aware of the change in language. It still wasn't anything he knew, but it was powerful, every word filled with its own brand of magic, and briefly Harry wondered if the man was speaking Latin.

Tossing the chocolate over to where the kids were, the Wizard gave this man his full attention as they both tried greetings in every language they knew. English, French, Latin (which made the other man tense as though feeling what Harry had with his second choice), Russian, German, even Japanese. At this point, Harry was fairly sure he was below the Equator, what with how many languages they knew yet the other didn't recognize. Which ruled out Apparition almost entirely.

Sighing irritably, Harry ran a hand through his hair, wincing at it caught onto a knot... Oh. Sticking his hand into his pouch, Harry asked for a scroll and a self inking quill, his favorite kind. If they wrote down what they wanted to say, the change in text was something he could do wandlessly. He really needed to find whoever gave him the pouch, and smack himself for not checking it sooner.

With a small scroll in hand, Harry made a powerful pulse of magic flow through his legs into the ground, analyzing the area for a flat surface. Finding a broken pillar a little ways away, he gestures the other man follow before going over to it, quickly laying out the paper and messily scrawling. 'Hello, my name is Harry.'

He could practically see the confused frown on the other's face, and in the back of his mind he registered that the kids were coming over, whispering amongst themselves. Harry pat the paper, and thankfully, the man got the hint, coming closer to try and read what he wrote. His voice sounded aggravated, but he paid the reaction no mind and held the quill out to him and mimed he write.

After only a moment of hesitation, he did so, writing out one line before looking at the other. Harry huffed. A cautious one. No skin off his back, he just didn't want to be seen as a threat to some little kids.

Hovering his hand over the text, he pulled from the centre of his core and cast a spell he hadn't used since his last mispronounced Floo trip. "Revocatas Verba"

When his hand moved he knew the languages would swap, showing the man his name and greeting. Harry had a bit more difficulty. While he could see living things with ease, his magic didn't flow properly through objects unless inches from his feet steps, which is why he couldn't tell until almost struck that the Dementors were armed with blades.

His fingers traced the ink marks on the paper, slowly reading what the man wrote. 'Who and what are you?' And Harry snorted. Has this man never seen a blind Wizard before? Wasn't he magical himse- oh. Maybe he was a humanoid creature of some sort. Perhaps a werewolf who'd been alienated from other Wizards? Knowing the ministry, he wouldn't be surprised.

Writing down that he was a 'blind old Wizard trying to find his way' and translating it again, he gestured to himself once he was done. "Harry." He held his hand out for a shake and after a pause his forearm was grasped tightly.

"Strider." Smiling and nodding, Harry released the other's, Strider's forearm, looking to the kids. They had stopped whispering amongst themselves and he could only guess they were staring at him.

Grinning like he always had to little Rosie, Harry pointed to himself and repeated, "Harry.", then gestured to them.

Frodo, Samwise, Meridoc, and Pippin. And none of them had the voices of children. Odd. Half Goblins like Professor Flitwick maybe?

Well either way, 'Strider' was relaxed enough that he could probably bolt. Putting on a regretful face, Harry spoke in his own language, likely confusing them. "It was nice meeting you all, really, but I gotta go. Only a couple days away from my destination, don't want to dally." Without giving them time to think, Harry dashed back in the direction he'd been heading a few hour ago.

He'd had maybe 2-3 hours of sleep. That'll be fine for now, but sadly, he'd have to settle down the next night too.

"Let him go." Aragon told the Hobbits, disappointed looks on their faces. Seeing magic had likely reminded them of Gandalf, a little ray of hope for them during a terrible moment.

He might be fool to say so, but he knew the man, similar in apparent age to himself, was no danger to them. If the glowing black stag had been anything to go by, this man had little to nothing to do with the Ring Frodo bore.

"Why's he leave so suddenly?" Pippin moaned in disappointment, starting a chain among them, but Frodo turned to him with a worried face.

He had something to tell him, and Aragorn crouched to Frodo's height to hear him. "He could see me." The Hobbit told him shakily. "He could see me even though I wore the Ring."

That brought about a whole extra slew of problems, and the ranger took back his previous thought. This Wizard definitely had something to do with the ring, and this wouldn't be the last time they saw him.

The important thing now was to get the Ring to Rivendell, out of Frodo's hands, and keep the Hobbits safe along the way.

_**Diverso**__**: *rubs hands together***_

_**1. You know what there's enough of? Straight ship irl. Just go pick up a magazine or write your own fic if all you want is no homo.**_

_**2. Picking an obscure character always feels like writing an OC to me, since I know so little about their behaviour. As much as I like OCs, I hate it in this form.**_

_**3. I'm not going to completely disregard a love that has someone give up their immortality just to ship Harry and Arwen. The only way I see this even working is if Harry stayed in Rivendell through the whole plot and swayed her slowly to him.**_

_**4. I have so many OCs. So many. But I don't want to throw an OC into the mix. 11 is too many for the Fellowship, even 10 is pushing it, and they don't stay anywhere long enough for a wizened old man like Harry to fall for anyone.**_

_**Rkatp**__**: Éowyn is someone I had considered and I really think Harry could grow to like her, I just don't really ship it? I mean, I'm writing this for my own enjoyment, so why would I write something I don't ship?**_

**_I ship Hermione and Legolas though! Im not a huge fan of rebirthing as an Elf, and any plans I have don't really include anyone else for a long time, but I might bring her in. Maybe I'll pull an idea from one of my other, incomplete stories to bring her in a way that doesn't clash with my own likes._**

_**ThatPotterBloke**__**: I appologize here and now for this, but I don't actually know anything about Tauriel other than that she exists and that she loved Killi? Was that canon? I haven't seen any hobbit movies other than the first :'D (I also really didn't like Ginny much, I just didn't want to write another EWE)**_

**_Once I see the Movies, if I like her enough, maybe I'll write an alternate, just for you for the fact that you wrote this out for me._**

_**I'm a firm believer that Harry is at least Bicurious. Living with the Dursleys would completely screw up any chance of him exercising this, and the Wizarding Media put together with living for so long with people who would think it's wrong to be attracted to the same sex could scar his mind, anyone's mind, into trying to convince themselves they're straight.**_

_**But even if he's not, straight men have been known to enjoy each other's... Company, and your sexuality doesn't always influence romance. So even if it's a character I wholly accept as straight, I can still make a slash romance out of it. They just wouldn't do the do very often, if at all. I happens irl, so.**_

_**Yvhiy**__**: Your English is better than a lot of people who have it for a first language.**_

**_White raven: *steeples fingers*_**

**_I should just do Q&A chapters at this rate omfg_**

**_Still on phone ugh will reread and try to correct when I get on my laptop again._**


	4. Stolen Sights

**_Guess who's back to work :\ _**

Harry was wondering if maybe he should have just asked that group if he could accompany them to the next town. Two more day traveling alone and he knew he was getting close, but he was wondering if maybe there were wards around the place to make him walk in circles. There were trees everywhere, and he could still feel trees everywhere for a long way ahead when he sent a powerful pulse.

Or maybe it's a tree inhabiting magical race? If he was walking right into a den of fairies he was going to scream, 199 years old or no. Two days might not feel like a long time, but he was avoiding hunting as much as he could, mostly living on the plant life if he could. There wasn't much around that he knew and trusted for eating.

He was doing all he could to keep his mind occupied. He thought about the Dementors and how odd it was that they seemed so ground bound and held weapons. He thought about Strider and the small men in his company. He thought about the magic-less village he'd appeared by.

He'd realized that they were the ones in that village to be attacked by the Dementors and they were all headed to the same place, but he didn't wait for them to catch up. He knew nothing but there names, and he learned his lesson all the way back in Hogwarts about trusting the wrong people and suspecting the wrong ones as well.

He was trying to keep his mind occupied. Why? Because the morning after his sleep again, he'd woken with the Elder wand in his grasp and the Resurrection Stone on his hand. He didn't want to think about why this would happen, too many possible answers lurking on the corners of his mind. He was content to die before figuring this one out.

So he thought about the slowly developing light sensitivity he had. It wasn't just light either. The blackness that had been all he could see for so long was slowly turning green, and while in a place like London that would worry him, in the forest, he had to wonder if maybe he was seeing the trees. His gaze turned dark every time he looked to the ground, which was odd, but it seemed like this place was so natural, it was restoring his sight to how it should be. Or is that how it should be? Should he remain blind naturally?

The thing he thought about most was the seeming de-aging. Was it just his body, or was his mind rewound as well? He didn't think it could be, still remembering so much of his 199 years, so he had an old mind, in a younger body. What about his heart? If his heart was still old then his eyes probably were too. His Magical core then? Was it young, or-

Harry felt a sharp zap across the back of his hand, and for a moment wondered if a bee had stung him for seemingly no reason, but then he remembered, and was glad. His Magic was still old, of course. He'd felt no change in it upon having his appearance rewound, so his magic was as haughty as ever. No longer surprised, the zap against his skin only made him grin.

Magic was alive, and he really wished more people would acknowledge that. It not only made the Wizard or Witch more powerful, and synced them with their magic, but it also allowed their magic a small bit of freedom, at times casting at the same time you do. It made for some fancy dueling.

A couple minutes longer, just as Harry was about to call it quits, the foliage opened up to one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Maybe the memory of it was simply dulled with time, but this place was perhaps even more magnificent than the first glimpse of Hogwarts.

Stairs let up to a dais that was likely used to greet people coming in, before you would walk through an archway to more stairs taking you to these beautiful halls. The buildings, if you could call them such a dull word, were built into a cliff side next to a waterfall, a location that would make Hagrid's old hut look magnificent. This structure was far from that wooden shack however, with beautiful patterns and arches carved into white stone and woods. Between each section of the structure, trees continued to grow undisturbed, some conforming to the walls, others' roots avoiding the buildings altogether.

Honestly it looked more like a temple than a village or town.

Like a whisper on the wind, but with no source he could find, a name come on the breeze, spoken from near with no one to say it. 'Rivendell'. Rivendell was the name of this place. "It's beautiful..." Harry murmured to himself. His vision quickly deteriorated again, even the green tint and light spots fading away, but that brief glimpse was enough to confirm his thoughts. Wherever he was, this place, this forest, this magical area he'd wandered into, must be healing him.

Why his vision couldn't just all come back at once, he didn't know, but maybe it was trying too hard too fast. Either way, he was more than a little excited to see again, for good. He'd missed that sense more than anything. However, he was more than willing to wait however long it took to get it back. It would be nice to know he'd be able to see the faces of his children again no matter if he was in his prime, or his old, crippled body.

If only he could see again though, he wouldn't be so surprised by what happened next.

One step he was alone with the trees, headed for the entrance, the next he was surrounded by men who hadn't made a sound on their way. One moment Harry was alone, enjoying the crisp air and intending to stand upon the dais until someone noticed him, the next there were three men, one in front, two behind.

The one in front of him spoke in that magical language, sounding both soothing and intimidating, kind but fair. Maybe it was just the language, but felt a surge of his magic reach out to his fingertips, and crackle on his palm out of sight. It seemed his magic thought he would require protecting, and though he was wary, he didn't think this would come to blows. He hadn't heard of any magical wars taking place elsewhere. Goodness knows a few countries would have contacted him personally.

Like with Strider and the small men, he addressed the issue of language head on, and spoke in English for them to figure it out themselves. "Hello, I have no idea what you're saying!" He said almost cheerfully. The Elder Wand was practically begging to be used from where it sat in the cloak's wand pocket. Harry ignored it, reminded far too much of his Horcrux experience than he was comfortable with.

They tried again in that language before skipping over to the one Strider had used first. Likely the common tongue. He shrugged apologetically. "Sorry mate, I don't think we'll have any success. Anyone here speak English? Or any other European Language?" Ah, the color imprints were coming back again. Looks like he'd be living with bursts on vision for a while.

Some figures were coming down the stairs, one of whom seemed to have some idea of what was going on, because a word from him and Harry was making his way forward again. This man still didn't speak any language he knew, but he was more than good enough to show him to a place he could sit and try to communicate.

After a few hand signs asking the man to just wait and bare with him, Harry pulled out the scroll again, and rolled past his short messages with the warrior, writing in English 'Hello, my name is Harry. Can you tell me where I am?'

Once the other had finished writing, having written far more than the other, Harry swapped scripts, letting the other have a moment to read his message. With no movement from the other, Harry thought maybe the other man wasn't actually all that interested in what he had to say unless it was in answer to his questions.

With a sigh, the wizard traced over the words, brows furrowing further with each word. At least they were friendly, but...

'Welcome to Middle Earth, Harrison the Black. I am Elrond, Lord of Imladris, better known as Rivendell.'

It said a lot, yet nothing at all to Harry. But really, it said all that it needed to. He was far, far away from England. A small part of him rejoiced. Yet a much larger part of him needed to figure out what was going on. He remembered a brief visit to a place not on earth before, when 'accidentally' falling through the veil in his 80s - how unfair that he survive it and Sirius did not - but he couldn't be off earth, could he?

Quickly, Harry wrote, 'Do you have any idea how far away from England I am?'

The translated answer settled like a rock in his stomach, a dead weight that wasn't pleasant in the least. 'There is no "england" in Middle Earth.' And yet, that little bit of him the had rejoiced hadn't faded in the slightest.

The temptation to use the Elder Wand rose, and if someone who spoke English didn't come into the picture soon, he would. He wouldn't be caught unable to speak any of the planet's languages the whole time he was here. He wouldn't make someone teach his old mind a new way of speaking.

**_World Travelling Chibitaku_**: _**You are my new favorite person**_

_***bundles u up in blankets and puts u next to swords in closet***_

_**I love how everyone asks certain story based questions right when I'm in the middle of answering it (*looks at animeromance1972*)pfff- Harry's eyes are something that will be answered soon.**_

_**Also, writing this, I just realized that a lot of this is pretty confusing. considering I'm writing in semi-omnipotent, third person, I'm only writing things as Harry thinks and sees them. What he thinks he'd seeing isn't really what's going on most of the time, it's just him relating it all to his own experiences because that's all he has to go on.**_


End file.
